


phil connors and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

by georgiehensley



Category: Groundhog Day - Minchin/Rubin
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Mistakes, post-show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiehensley/pseuds/georgiehensley
Summary: or, the one where phil still tries to be a good person when he returns home to pittsburgh, but his awful luck keeps getting in the way.





	phil connors and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

**Author's Note:**

> lame title, but a fic with that title was bound to happen in this fandom, right?
> 
> original prompt from @itsqueermrmarvin on tumblr: _Back in Pittsburgh, Phil starts a day in high spirits and resumes his pattern of good deeds. Unfortunately, practically every one goes horribly awry, whether due to underthinking, overthinking, or plain bad luck. He meets with Rita later, dejected that he'll never have another chance to get this day right and flustered by the constant uncertainty. Rita says she knows exactly how he feels and he's reminded not to be so hard on himself._

when phil wakes up in the morning, he’s shockingly in a good mood. not that he’s ever all that miserable in a city like pittsburgh, but it sure does feel good to be back home. (and back to normal, for that matter.)

on his way to work that morning, he passes an old man sitting on a stoop, begging for change. feeling bad, phil reaches into his wallet and offers the man a five dollar bill. the man smiles and takes it, but before phil realizes it, his wallet is gone, and the man is already halfway down the block.

“hey!” phil calls out to him, sprinting, struggling to weave his way in and out of the crowded streets.

it’s after a few blocks that phil begins to give up, doubling over as his chest throbs, barely enough air getting to his lungs. if he were a bit younger, maybe he wouldn’t have given up so soon. to his luck, though, another step forward has him finding his wallet discarded on the ground. of course, when he inspects it for damages, he finds all of his cash and credit cards gone.  _dammit._

nevertheless, he pushes through, remembering that there’s a coffee machine in the break room at work so he doesn’t need to stop to buy any.

“good morning, mr. connors,” the receptionist greets him as he steps into the lobby of the building.

“morning, patricia,” phil says back, turning towards the desk, continuing to walk backwards. “hey, did you ever receive that fax from the mayor of punxs– _ahh!_ ” having paid no attention to where he was walking, phil completely missed the “wet floor” sign, causing him to fall backwards, landing with a hard thud against the linoleum floor.

“are you okay?” patricia asks, standing, moving to step out from behind her desk. phil holds a hand up to keep her in her place.

“fine,” he says, sitting up with a groan, wincing as his body fights the motion - and at the feel of his suit now being entirely soaked in the back. he steadily pushes himself back onto his feet, holding his hands out.

“i’m fine,” he repeats, just to reassure patricia - and himself, really. straightening out his tie and suit jacket, he turns and heads towards the elevators.

just when the doors are about to close, he hears a feminine voice call out, “ _wait!_ ” he reaches his hand out, putting it between the doors to stop them from closing. but instead of opening back up like he expected them to, they only continue to shut, trapping his hand between them.

“ _fuck_ ,” he mutters under his breath, tugging on his hand as he feels the elevator begin to move. he manages to get it free, but it’s red and throbbing, and phil’s left to wonder if he broke it.

when he finally reaches the floor of his studio, he just puts his hand in his pocket, deciding that he’d try not to use it until it starts to feel better. (or he at least would wait to give it a proper inspection after the broadcast.)

he heads to the breakroom first to make his cup of coffee, smiling when he sees larry standing by the countertop.

“hey, lare,” phil says. “how’s nancy doing?”

“she’s fine,” larry replies. “and how many times do i have to ask you to stop calling me that?”

“sorry,” phil says. “i keep forgetting.”

“hmm,” larry huffs in response, turning back to the coffee machine.

“here, allow me,” phil says, stepping forward, shooing larry away.

“oh-kay,” the other man says, confused but not arguing against phil’s insistence. phil starts to prepare larry’s coffee, asking how he likes it, though already seeming to know himself, something that larry vows to ask about later.

“alrighty, here you go,” phil says when it’s done, turning towards larry. only, he suddenly trips over his own two feet, and the coffee goes flying, spilling all over larry’s shirt and pants.

“ _shit,_ ” phil mutters under his breath, grabbing a handful of napkins and attempting to help larry clean up the mess. “i’m so sorry!”

“it’s okay,” larry says, pushing phil away and standing with a wince. “i just have to go request for the day off, is all. and maybe call an ambulance.” he nods at phil before limping his way out of the room.

“hope you feel better,” phil calls out to him, before sighing.  _could this day get any worse?_

yes, yes it could. a power outage, trip to the emergency room, and broken hand later, and phil finds himself sighing as he sits down at the table across from rita.

“bad day?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“you have no idea,” phil says in response, taking a sip of his water. “i tried to help people all day, but i couldn’t stop screwing up. larry had to go to the hospital because of me, and i ended up going there myself because, well,” he lifts his broken hand, now sitting in a cast. rita frowns.

“you poor thing,” she says, almost mockingly. phil shakes his head.

“ha ha,” he says sarcastically. rita smiles.

“not every day can go exactly as you want it to,” she says. “you won’t always have the chance to set everything right.”

“but that scares me,” phil confesses. “what if i keep making mistakes like this? what if i can’t help people? what if i continue to fail and everyone just starts to hate me and–”

“phil,” rita says, cutting him off. she places a hand on his cast-covered one. “relax. i get it. everyone’s scared to make mistakes. but you can’t live the rest of your life in fear. some people might not like you, which you probably hate to hear–” phil rolls his eyes, and rita smiles. “but you can’t let that stop you from just being you and trying your best. don’t be so hard on yourself all the time.” phil smiles slightly.

“thanks,” he says. “i needed that.”

“now,” rita says, pulling a pen from her coat pocket. “can i sign your cast?”

she ends up taking over the cast, essentially, drawing cartoon groundhogs (of course) and little snow-clouds, but the part that phil likes best, an image that leaves him smiling even as he returns home after dinner that night, is where rita wrote, in big letters, “rh ❤ pc”.


End file.
